


Just Follow My Lane

by creepy_crawly



Series: Pride Month 2020 [2]
Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Asexual Character, Asexuality, Asexuality Spectrum, Bang Chan is a Good Friend, Bisexual Character, Coming Out, Gay Character, Gen, Han Jisung | Han-centric, Pride, Queer Character, Queer Friendly, Queer Themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-14
Updated: 2020-06-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:13:21
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24725077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/creepy_crawly/pseuds/creepy_crawly
Summary: (or, Five Times Han Jisung Came Out, And One Time He Did So Happily)Jisung’s attempt at a laugh is weak, watery, and miserable. “I don’t like girls, hyung,” he says.“That’s okay,” Chan says. “Neither do I. Neither do a couple of other folks whose names I can’t just give out.”Jisung burrows into his shoulder. He whispers the next words into Chan’s throat. “But I don’t...I don’t like boys, either.”And, oh. Chan didn’t see this coming. He bets there’s a word for it, for this orientation, this identity, but it’s not one he knows. Not in Korean, for certain, and probably not in English, either. But that doesn’t matter, because right now, Jisung doesn’t need a specific word. He just needs Chan, needs acceptance, needs to know it’s all going to be okay.For Pride Month 2020
Series: Pride Month 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1778242
Comments: 16
Kudos: 199





	Just Follow My Lane

**Author's Note:**

> Baby's first SKZ fic!

– First –

Chan thinks nothing of it as he passes the group of gossiping, tittering trainees. They’re talking about girls, and probably being cruder than they should, if the hand gestures he just saw are any indication. Still, they’re pretty young, and this isn’t any more than he’s participated in with Woojin, so he’s not going to say anything. If they get louder, or raunchier, he might, or if it sounds like they’re talking about someone specific. Until then, where’s the harm?

He barely even notices Jisung’s dark head among the group, that first time, but he does notice a couple of weeks later when he no longer sees Jisung hanging out with that particular group of trainees. Jisung’s pretty well known for making friends with anyone and everyone, for one, and Eunjae’s not known for keeping it to himself if he’s had a falling out with someone, so the sudden silent absence is...notable. He doesn’t ask, though; Jisung will tell him if he wants to talk, and Jisung’s hanging out with a smaller, slightly quieter group now, so it’s not like there’s any risk of him being ostracised or whatever.

Embarrassingly, it takes at least a week for Chan to realise that Jisung’s withdrawn again, and now is only spending time with him and Changbin (and, by relation, Woojin). He resolves to say something to the kid, but Jisung beats him to the punch.

They’re in the studio, notebooks and editing programs and iced coffee cans open, each doing their own thing. Changbin slouched off to bed at least an hour ago, but Chan can feel the familiar burn of insomnia in the back of his eyes, and Jisung’s so keyed up he’s practically vibrating in place. It’s not his normal keyed up, either – Chan’s spent enough time locked in small spaces with an under-caffeinated Han Jisung to know his normal hyperactive state – but something more frantic, more frustrated.

“Hyung?” Jisung says finally.

Chan hums, spinning in his chair to face him. “Yeah?”

Jisung folds himself into the corner of the rundown couch he’s sitting on, knees pulled tight to his chest, feet crossed at the ankles, arms looped over those. He stares at his own knees. “I…” he starts. He pauses. “Can I ask you something embarrassing?”

Raising an eyebrow, Chan nods. He’s been on  _ both _ sides of these conversations before; bless Park Jinyoung for actually knowing how to keep his mouth shut. “Of course, Jisungie,” he says, encouraging. 

Jisung’s gaze stays on his knees. “How did you know you didn’t like girls?” he asks, finally.

Chan blinks; he hadn’t been expecting this question. Then again, while he’s been subtle, he’s hardly kept it entirely secret. With as much time as they spend together, it’s not a surprise that Jisung’s figured it out, not really.

He hums again, thinking. “I just...I didn’t?” he offers. “Like, the way everyone talks about liking girls, in songs, and when we’re all dishing… It didn’t feel right. And then I realised I was thinking about guys that way, and when I was pretending to talk about girls I liked, I was thinking about things I liked from guys I knew, and…”

Jisung makes a miserable gasping noise and seems to melt.

Standing up, Chan takes the half step over to the couch and lets himself get devoured by the lack of springs. Though he wants to put an arm out, he doesn’t, lets Jisung keep his space. Instead, he pulls his own feet up and sits beside him, facing him, crosslegged. “What’s up, Jisungie?” he asks. “Are you thinking you might be gay, too?”

But Jisung shakes his head. “No,” he mumbles to his thighs. “No, hyung, I’m  _ broken _ .”

To hell with space; Chan leans forward and tucks the boy into his arms, tight against his chest. “No, you’re not, Jisungie. Come on. Tell hyung what’s up.” When Jisung just starts hiccuping into his shoulder, Chan rubs his back and tries again. “Seriously, kiddo. It can _ not _ be any worse than anything I’ve spilled out on Jinyoungie-hyung’s bed. Or Jackson-hyung. Hell, BamBam’s heard some shit from me.”

Jisung’s attempt at a laugh is weak, watery, and miserable. “I don’t like girls, hyung,” he says.

“That’s okay,” Chan says. “Neither do I. Neither do a couple of other folks whose names I can’t just give out.”

Jisung burrows into his shoulder. He whispers the next words into Chan’s throat. “But I don’t...I don’t like boys, either.”

And, oh. Chan didn’t see this coming. He bets there’s a word for it, for this  _ orientation _ , this  _ identity _ , but it’s not one he knows. Not in Korean, for certain, and probably not in English, either. But that doesn’t matter, because right now, Jisung doesn’t need a specific word. He just needs Chan, needs acceptance, needs to know it’s all going to be okay.

Tightening his arms around the boy, Chan presses his cheek against the top of Jisung’s head, smelling the cheap shampoo he uses. “Oh, Jisungie,” he murmurs. “You’re not broken, you’re not wrong, you’re not anything but you, Jisungie. You’re you, and that’s okay.”

– Second –

Chan, Minho notes, is the only one here who looks comfortable, or at least not bewildered. They’re packed into 3Racha’s broomcloset-cum-studio, Chan in a chair, Woojin on a stool next to him, while Minho is slowly sinking into the depths of the springless couch. Changbin, familiar with the room’s seating options, had opted for the arm of the couch, and Minho hates him a little bit, even though he’s pretty sure the younger boy’s getting stabbed by an upholstery screw.

To his credit, Woojin’s doing a good job of pretending like he knows what’s going on; it’s an act that he’s perfected recently, that he and Chan share some kind of mental link. Minho’s, like, 90 percent certain it’s bullshit, though. Changbinnie certainly seems to think so, if the look he’s leveraging towards their older members is any indication.

“What’s going on?” Minho asks, finally giving in to the desire to know. 

“Yeah,” Changbin echoes, leaning forward as if the aggressive posture can hide his discomfort. “What’s going on, hyungs? Why’d you ask us to stay?”

Woojin holds up his hands, deflecting responsibility, even as Chan straightens up a little. “Jisungie asked me to ask you to stay, that’s all.” He checks his phone, still in his hand, thumbing over the screen. “He’ll be here in a second, guys. It’s okay.”

The silence stretches between them, long and uncomfortable from more than just an aged couch. Finally, just as Minho’s contemplating asking his hyungs to haul him out of the pit he’s fallen into, the door handle turns.

Jisung’s paler than Minho’s ever seen him, his bottom lip swollen and bleeding, cracked and painful looking. He’s been chewing on it, then; Minho makes a note to dig out a new tube of the medicated chapstick he has. Jisung always loses his, and Minho’s just about the only organised human in this mass of chaos he calls a group.

“Hey,” Chan says, stretching a hand out towards Jisung, now sagging back against the closed door. “It’s okay, Jisungie. You got this.”

Jisung’s lips thin, and he nods. “Yeah,” he agrees, standing up straight. He takes a deep breath, bringing his hands together in front of him. His fingers tangle together, and he’s clearly fighting the urge to draw his lip into his mouth, but he manages to keep it together. “Uh, thanks, uh, thanks for coming, guys.”

Changbin gestures broadly, nearly smacking Minho as he does so. “You wanted us, here we are. What’s up, Sung-ah?”

Jisung’s eyes flash over to Chan again, and then to the center of the room. He doesn’t look at anyone in particular, or anything, so much as he seems to be staring at the small stain near Woojin’s foot.

“I...um, I wanted to tell you guys something,” he says, half-swallowing the words. If his default volume wasn’t eleven, he'd probably be inaudible right now. “Something important.”

Everyone waits.

Jisung shifts on his feet. His lip flickers into his mouth, then back out. He sighs, fidgets his hands, stills again. Finally, he says, “I...um, so, I’m asexual. I don’t like girls, and I don’t like guys. I… We’re talking about all kinds of stuff as we get ready for debut, and I thought I should tell you guys. Since, uh, since Chan-hyung said something, and all.”

Minho blinks, surprised. This was not a thing he was expecting to hear. By the looks on faces around him, neither were the others. Only Chan hasn’t reacted; Jisung must have already said something to him.

Next to him, Changbin tentatively lifts a finger, like he’s raising his hand to ask a question. “Um,” he says. “Can you...can you explain? I don’t think I’ve heard of that before.”

Jisung sags against the door, his shoulders going loose. Chan, standing up, pats him on the shoulder and urges him into the only real chair in the small space. Jisung takes it with a nod and a plastic smile.

– Third –

“Oh, come on, hyung,” Jeongin whines, draping himself dramatically across Seungmin’s bed, ignoring the way the other boy elbows him. “You’ve got to have at least one story.”

Crosslegged on his own bed, Felix watches the maknae rolling around and whining like the spoiled drama queen he is. Jeongin’s a terror, it’s true, but he’s their terror, and honestly, they only have themselves to blame. They all fell for his big puppy eyes way too often, early on, and now he has them all trained, even Felix himself. 

He’s not sure how they got on the topic – possibly Hyunjin, waxing poetic about the girl who waits for the bus outside their building in the mornings – but they’ve been spending the last hour and change swapping stories about people they’ve had crushes on, or who they’ve dated, or disastrous first kisses, or cute dates they’ve gone on. 

Felix himself has contributed a hefty number of these stories; he is the first to call himself an equal opportunity slut, because he likes people and he likes making them feel good, and he likes people liking him and making him feel good. Hyunjin, unsurprisingly, has been a font of dramatic, romantic tales of pining, always for girls that are just out of his reach. Seungmin’s taste seems to run to the girl next door, and of the two anecdotes he’s shared, both have started with the girl making the first move.

Jeongin’s only got the one story – first kiss after he got his braces – but he’s been giggling his way through his hyungs’s stories, even the ones Felix has told about guys. Felix knows he was a little uncomfortable around Chan and then himself when they’d first admitted to liking guys – Chan more than Felix, though whether that was because he had time to learn from Chan or because Felix also likes girls, he’s never thought about it too much – but he’s overcome that, has let his hyungs teach him with grace.

So it’s not odd that he’s turned his attention to the only person who has yet to contribute to the storyfest. Jisung, curled up in his own little nest of blankets on his bed, has weighed in with opinions and laughter and dirty jokes like the rest of them, but hasn’t offered up his own story. It’s a little unusual; Jisung is usually at the center of whatever chaos is going, and he’s not shy about sharing personal stories if the occasion calls.

No surprise, then, that Jeongin wants to hear from Jisung. Jisung’s stories tend to be wild from start to finish, and there’s usually a thread of self-deprecation that makes you feel for Jisung, even as you’re laughing at whatever stupidity he’s gotten himself into this time.

But Jisung’s not laughing now, and Felix isn’t sure why, but he doesn’t think Jeongin should push.

“Innie,” he starts, sitting up a little and patting Hyunjin’s hair in apology for disturbing him.

But Seungmin cuts him off, rolling onto his belly next to Jeongin. “Come on, Sungie. It can’t be that embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin chimes in, sleepy. “Felix already told us about getting jizz in that one guy’s eye.”

“We agreed to never talk about that again,” Felix says, cringing and shrinking back. God, of all the humiliating stories he thought to share with them... 

“You did, hyung,” Jeongin says, laughing as he pushes himself upright on Seungmin’s bed. “The rest of us did no such thing. So, come on, Jisung-hyung, tell us.”

“Yeah,” Hyunjin play-whines. “Tell us.”

No one, not even Felix, expects the explosion they get.

“No!” Jisung shouts, lurching up from his pile of blankets. Fingers clutched desperately in the one wrapped tightest around his shoulders, he stands up. “I’m not going to tell you anything, ‘cause there isn’t anything, okay? I don’t...I’m not attracted to people. I haven’t dated, haven’t had a first kiss, none of that. Alright? I’m asexual, now fuck off.”

And, just like that, he storms out the door, leaving silence in his wake.

– Fourth –

She frowns, scrolling through the post she’d put up on the fancafe last night.

It isn’t anything fancy, just a confession that when people asked her ideal type, or teased her about crushes, she said Han-oppa, but that she doesn’t actually like oppa like  _ that _ , the way people expect her to. But it’s easier to tell people that she likes an idol than to deal with other questions, or accusations of liking girls (which she doesn’t). 

She still  _ likes _ Han, but she doesn’t  _ like like  _ him. He’s funny, and he’s kind, and she appreciates that. She likes his rapping. She likes his voice, and she’s happy when she gets Han photocards. She just doesn’t want to...you know. Do stuff. With him.

Some of the responses are kind –  _ that’s okay _ , and  _ you still like him, even if it’s different than how some of us do _ , and  _ at least you’re realistic about what you get from Han-oppa, kkkk! _ She recognises some of the usernames, on some of them; her friends are weighing in and telling her to stop worrying about how she loves her idol and to just love him.

Other responses are...not so kind. Downright cruel, even. There are accusations that she’s using Han, that she’s somehow abusing his trust, or the sacred relationship between an idol and their stan. That she’s not a real fan, not a good person, that she’s sick. She recognises some of these screennames, too, some of them people she trusted, before.

There’s one response that sticks with her, though, because it’s not syrupy sweet, and it’s not mean, but it’s...honest.

_ I don’t think there’s anything wrong with this, _ the person (HannieJone00) writes out.  _ Or with you. You don’t have to like someone one specific way to like them. There are lots of ways to love people, and they’re all okay, as long as no one’s getting hurt. And honestly, I think Han would probably like knowing that there are people out there who like him like this! It’s nice to know that someone likes you for more than just being attractive, right? Or that someone wants something from you besides sex stuff. _

What really gets her, though, is that HannieJone00 has DMed her.

_ Hey,  _ they’ve written _ , I’m like you. I don’t  _ like like _ people, either. The idea of sex kind of creeps me out, actually. I identify as a sex-repulsed asexual person. If you’ve never heard of asexuality, here’s some resources I’ve found helpful for figuring out myself, and for talking to people, like my friends and parents. I hope they help you, too. _

_ I’m not online a lot, but please message me back if you want to. And, remember. You’re not broken, you’re not wrong, you’re not anything but you. And just you is pretty awesome. _

Sniffling a little, not sure why, she prints out the response, pastes it to a card, and tucks it in the back of her wallet.

– Fifth –

Han Sujin watches her youngest son toying with his char kuey teow, and frowns inside. She’d asked Jisung what he most missed in Ampang that he wasn’t able to easily get in Seoul; he’d mentioned this place, one of his favourite hole-in-the-wall eateries cum restaurants while living in Malaysia. And while Jisung might not be quite as able to put it away as some of his friends – he’d shared a story about Chan eating an entire murtabak, and then helping some of the others finish off theirs – neither is he a shy eater. He usually wolfs through his char kuey teow, even as he chatters up a storm.

That’s another thing he’s not doing right now – talking. When they see Jisung, he’s usually a font of conversation, of stories, of questions. She raised a motormouth, and she loves him for that, because Sujin can keep up with her son’s life through his stories and his questions. He has no doubt of her love for him, because she tells him every chance she gets, and Jisung has never been shy about telling her that he loves her, and why. 

But now, he’s slouched uncomfortably in a cheap plastic chair, noodles half-eaten, silently watching his brother describe a trip to the zoo with his girlfriend. He picks idly at the label on his soda bottle, rather than leaping in and teasing Jiyong about belonging in a zoo himself, or being chased back to a pen by an irate zookeeper. He doesn’t seem that into it, really, his face pale and his eyes dark, on his soda, his hands.

Sujin leans forward, brushing her son’s bangs out of his eyes and getting a subtle feel of his forehead. He doesn’t  _ feel _ feverish, but there’s nothing to say he hasn’t taken medicine just so he could come out with them tonight. “Jisung-ah,” she says, smiling at him as her hand falls to land on top of his. “Are you feeling okay, love? You’re awful quiet.”

Jisung blinks up at her, big round eyes, and she’s suddenly thrown back to when he was a small child. Sujin hates that he’s an adult, now, that she can’t scoop him up into her arms and cuddle him until he says what’s bothering him, as much as she loves the independent, driven man he’s become.

“I’m...I’m fine, mom,” he says, returning her smile with a tired, wispy one of his own.

Sujin raises an eyebrow.

Don’t get her wrong; she loves that even now, even as adults, her boys can’t lie to her. Not to say they don’t try, or that she doesn’t sometimes let them think they’ve gotten away with it. She knows exactly who broke that hideous vase from her mother-in-law, and she knows that Jisung had his first hangover at 15, and she knows that Jisung is anything but fine right now.

“Junyong,” she says, not looking away from her baby’s face, even as she addresses her husband. “Go get boxes for this, yeah? We’ll have tea at home before we take Jisungie back to his boys.” She squeezes his hand, so that he knows he’s not getting out of talking to her.

As it turns out, Jisung doesn’t make it all the way home. They’re stopped at a redlight when Jisung speaks up.

“Um,” he says, voice shaky, “I need to tell you guys something.”

Jiyong tries to defuse the obvious tension with a joke. “Dude, I told you to use a condom,” he says. “Mom’s way too young to be a grandmother.”

“Jiyong,” Sujin says, shooting her oldest a sharp look. She turns her attention to Jisung. “What’s up, baby?”

Jisung swallows audibly, his eyes falling to his feet, hidden in the darkness of the car. “Um,” he says again. “I… You know how I’ve not… I’ve never introduced you to a girlfriend?”

Driving the car, Junyong hums. Sujin knows he thinks Jisung is gay, and they’ve had enough conversations about it (and Jisung’s friend, Chan) that she knows he’ll keep his mouth shut on any of his darker comments until it’s just them, together. 

“I...uh,” Jisung says, and his voice is this sad, shaky, brittle thing. Nothing like him at all. When Sujin reaches out a hand to him, he tangles their fingers together and squeezes. His palm is clammy.

“I,” Jisung repeats, then forges on. “I have realised that I’m. I’m asexual. I don’t...I’m not attracted to women, and I’m not attracted to men. I’m not attracted to anyone.”

And, oh, her baby… He sounds so scared, like they will hate him, like they will cast him out, like the reason he started this conversation in the car was so that they could drop him off at his hotel, not take him home. Sujin wants to cry – how could her child fear her this much?

She tightens her fingers in his. “Oh, baby, thank you for telling us. I’ve got some stupid questions for you, I’m sure, but those can wait for a hot cup of tea.”

– And One –

Looking through their schedules, Jisung frowns. He leans over, checks out Jeongin’s paper. Another frown. He leans to the other side, checks Minho’s. The frown deepens. Looking up at their manager, he asks, “I’ve got a question. How come some of us have a meeting ‘on protocol’ with PD-nim and our managers?”

Donghyun grimaces, even as the hyungs (and Felix, interestingly) start snickering. 

“Sex talk,” Felix says brightly, before their manager can speak. “Wrap it before you tap it, but be sure it’s the managers buying condoms, not you, here’s a stack of NDAs, here’s how to keep an eye out for cameras, and I swear to god, Lee Yongbok, if you get some girl pregnant, or if some guy gets photos of your dick on his phone…”

“Interestingly,” Minho says dryly, “the version we got,” his gesture indicates himself, Changbin, and Chan, “did not include threats about Felix’s junk.”

“Did include threats about our own, though,” Chan reminds him, grinning. “And I got a separate talk that did include threats about Felix’s junk. And yours, and Changbinnie’s, and the maknaes’...”

“Ouch,” Felix hoots, cringing playfully. “You’re supposed to be responsible for where we stick it?”

Chan shakes his head. “Just where you text pictures of it, apparently. You’re on the hook for your own poor hook up choices. Though I’d probably get raked over the coals, anyhow, so let’s just not, yeah?”

Donghyun, who has looked like he might be praying for mercy, or maybe a swift death, finally interjects. “The boss wants to be sure that you all understand the importance of safe sex practices, and the risks you run as an idol. He also wants to be sure that you, like the company managers, know the exact chain of escalation to follow when you do have an encounter with someone, or if someone says you have, or if someone’s pressing for money or time or something.”

Jeongin looks confused for a moment. “But Felix is part of the maknae line, isn’t he?”

Felix beams. “Yeah, I’m not sure if it’s the liking dudes part or the embarrassingly easy part that got me pulled in to an earlier meeting.”

“It’s both, you absolute disaster,” Chan sighs, putting a hand over his face. “Any other questions about the schedule?”

“Yeah,” Jisung says. “Can I get out of the sex talk? I’d much rather be in the studio with hyungs.”

Donghyun sighs. “Everyone needs to get the talk, Jisung,” he starts. “It’s a crucial part of idol training, and I’m a little surprised that it’s waited this long.”

“Yeah, but,” Jisung starts.

“You might not be dating now, or thinking about dating,” Donghyun says, “but we’re not idiots, and we know that non-dating clauses are just words on paper, and you lot are a bunch of hormonal beautiful people surrounded by other hormonal beautiful people. We’d rather you be prepared than the company be surprised.”

“Okay, sure,” Jisung says. “Fine. Haul in Seungmin and Hyunjin and Jeonginnie. Heck, haul in Felix again.” He ignores the rude gesture Felix sends his way. “But there’s no point in me being there, hyung.”

Donghyun looks exhausted, but plays along. “And why is that, Han Jisung?”

Jisung grins toothily. “I’m ace, man. Sex-repulsed ace, at that. You can’t do any more to put me off sex than nature already has.”

He may not be sure whether or not Donghyun burying his face in his hands and actually groaning out loud is a victory, but the updated schedule that gets texted to him later that has “meeting with PD-nim on protocol” swapped for “studio time”  _ definitely  _ is.


End file.
